


Test of Time

by raspyraspberries



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Civil War, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-02-13 21:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspyraspberries/pseuds/raspyraspberries
Summary: An interpretation of the romantic/ relationship aspect of Civil War, from perspectives of Steve and Tony.A one off, but with a possibility for expansion for a longer revision.





	1. Chapter 1

He was envious. But he never let it show. They were blessed with the longevity of love, one that had been through war, hell and even the grasps of death herself. With all of it's pitfalls, the loss of trust, and the mutual animosity always seemed to dissipate, as if the gravity of the situation can be washed away with anecdotes of the past, soft smiles and heavy, shuddering breaths under covers.

He was not so lucky.

A love reminiscent of theirs seemed to have been left in a war torn nineteen fourty-four, falling through his grasp only to be swallowed up by snow and ice.  
Steve repeated a mantra, always echoing in the back of his mind at any given moment. "I love him. Remember your promises." He found it hard to believe or uphold it himself, when before him was the man he married, brows furrowed as he sipped from a glass, gaze averted from him and focused solely to the work sprawled in glowing lights emanating from his tablet. The both of them living in a heavy hanging tension, at any moment they knew the end was inevitable but they didn't dare say a word, as if the avoidance of such mention can afford them a moment's more delay.

Tony's actions were deliberate. It drove his husband mad, the avoidance and the non-resolution, but he found no solace in trying to rectify the wrong. He had felt as if a man living on borrowed time, and if he ever did believe in love, he would say that it was constantly fleeting. 

In the quietest of nights, where the cold and ambient silence seemed to make his heart ache, he would rise from his work bench, (a glass of amber liquid seeming to be a common accessory to his person these days), and he would walk to the platform of his now dimly-lit tower, save for the flickering "A", and sit close to the edge, feet dangling over the bustling lights of the city, and the noise of the city would blur to a silent hum. As the distance and loneliness almost seems unbearable, even when all that separated them was twenty feet across the living room, that and of course, the mutual disappointment that loomed between them.

He wondered if a mortal lifetime would be enough to salvage what was fading fast. He wondered that if given the chance of almost eternity as Loki and Thor had, would it be enough even then to repair his mistrust, but he thought not. He used the two as an example as dysfunctional they may be, since he knew his husband watched the two intently.  
Tony knew it was heartbreaking to Steve, to watch them, a sharpened dagger to the bearded blonde's throat, his large hands balled into fists, his svelte green-eyed beauty spitting venomous words, before he would lower the threatening hand with a tenderness only afforded by unconditional love and releasing his tension as he held Loki tightly, sharing soft needy kisses and an assuring bear hug. 

Steve craved the love, while Tony craved the forgiveness. 

He didn't feel the gravity of his crimes outweighed Loki's, and yet he was still granted the most important pardon, a pardon from the one that mattered the most.  
At times, Steve sounded like an echo, of every man or woman who wanted him desperately to fill the dauntingly large shoes left by his father, with the added burden of being even half the lover, Barnes was to Steve. Though there was never any explicit mentions of this inadequacy, he felt it nonetheless. 

The detailed sketches of his husband's past lover, and the yellowed picture of the blue eyed brunette beaming in a dark beige uniform, framed and lingering on Steve's side table was a reminder, he hadn't owned the blonde's heart, and this bit would make him laugh cynically, he was just keeping Steve warm for Bucky until he would be returning for his love. He knew of Barnes' whereabouts, he knew the bastard was alive and yet, he breathed not even a hint of this information Steve.  
Tony almost felt like a coward. 

The nights he spent, Steve underneath his thrusting hips, arms pinned above his head as the older man held him place, the blonde's pants of lust never did mask his wide eyes of abject emptiness. The clear hue of them honestly reminded Tony of doll's eyes, pretty but devoid of life. He would pound into the man, as in his mind, the pleasure he gave, no matter how temporary seemed to make Steve flutter his eyes shut underneath heavy lids and light lashes, draw a finishing breath as he mutters his name,  
"Tony..."

For that moment he felt victorious.

The temporary nature of his high almost always resulted in a ensuing low.  
It was made it all the more sickening, almost as if he was subjecting Steve to forced romantic mediocrity, by never allowing him the second option of continuing what was  
lost almost seventy years ago. 

To Steve it seemed to be methodical, his life flowed in a way that seemed to blur one day into the next. He lived for others, his morals, and their son. He found only the sliver of joy or fulfillment when he was in action, if not preoccupied in missions, he sought solace in quiet moments with Peter. In his mind, in an unadulterated truth, he died seventy years ago along with Bucky. He supposed the time was relative, being in a state of comatose seemed to be the only thing that spared him the emotional weight of never being able to see him again, and it shielded him from the guilt. The guilt he carried when he could not make that split decision to dive in after him.

He thought he found solace in Tony's arms, the multiple attempts of grandiose efforts of keeping order on Earth was bound to bring them closer, but with time, he noticed they were two different people. Nothing was more painful than realizing that they were different, but in a way that was harmful to each other. There was no underlying yearning, or deep forgiveness for the nature of your lover, it wasn't the sun and the moon as it was with Thor and Loki, no, it was an oil slick on water, set ablaze by an accidental spark. 

Steve's high moral upbringing, and the tightly knit perfection of the nineteen forties, made him believe that a broken home was not ideal, and it would only serve as a catalyst for any pain or trauma Peter would sustain. So he stayed, for Peter's sake. He loved the boy dearly, and though it killed him each time that Tony would saunter into their bedroom, his gait so obviously intoxicated, only to crawl under the covers with Steve, breath reeking of hard liquor as he caressed the blonde tenderly, planting kisses onto unwilling lips. He wouldn't utter a single word of protest, nor would he recoil. 

Tony then would attempt to fuck the animosity away, in an attempt to re-kindle a love that begun on unsteady foundations. The blonde would feel empty after the act was completed, the hollow feeling resonating deep within his chest. A scalding shower would cleanse the seed soiling his thighs, but it would not alleviate his unease, leaving him clutching the wall of the shower as he cried in silent frustration.  
Steve would not let this show. 

The facade would stay, and with the pitch perfect glamour of an old Hollywood actress, he would compose himself, not a hair out of place as he suited up for the next dire emergency beckoning for his attention.


	2. Chapter 2

It was going to be one of those nights, and his hutch had never betrayed him before. He supposed, it began in the early morning, they shared a bed, but more often than not there was only ever one occupant. Steve sat up, instinctively looking over to the left. He sighed, expectantly. Tony never stayed until the morning anymore. A deep contemptment filled him, as if he could hear his mother's words berating him for being so immoral. Tony was his husband, but the way the man acted, it made Steve feel as if he was just another one-night stand.

  
Wordlessly, he made his way to bathroom, passing by their loft. He spotted Tony, tinkering with some sort of device he couldn't even begin to comprehend, a drink in hand in hand at the early hours. He shook his head, averting his gaze. It was his choice to turn a blind eye, it was easy enough to ignore, what he found difficult was to face it head on, and that fact sickened him. He put on a brave face in adversity, stood for the righteousness of things, but he couldn't even find himself to face his own crumbling marriage, his husband's rampant infidelty, his alcoholism, and his unwanted sexual advances.

  
Tony glanced up briefly, as he offered Steve a weak smile, pushing his drink behind his work tools. He didn't say a word, too tired to start another argument on his drinking.

  
"You're up early." Steve murmured, not looking up from the pot of coffee he fiddled with.   
"Couldn't sleep." He answered, hesitating for a minute, "Hey, Steve..."

  
Steve stopped. He waited for what he knew all too well.

  
"Could we talk, over dinner, just the two of us?" Tony offered, walking over, to wrap his arms around the blonde's waist.

  
Steve flinched, involuntarily. He knew what this was, it would be a night of apologies, reminders of a long forgotten romance. It would end with him being fucked, and Tony believing all was well. It worked at first, all those nights ago, the first few arguments, but now it just felt like an obligation.

  
Tony noticed, but he didn't relent, he wanted redemption, and he hoped this would be the night to sway Steve's mind. "You need a break, and we need to talk. Bruce offered to take Peter for the night." He argued, trying to keep his tone lighthearted.

  
He couldn't refuse. Not for Peter's sake, nor his mother's. It wasn't an option to leave.

* * *

  
The night went about as well as he expected, the same as all the others. They had dinner in the best place money could buy, talked on a balcony overlooking the most exqusite view, and Tony lied through his teeth about promises that never would come true, apologies that never were sincere, and saved face in any way he could.

  
Steve was not convinced, and against his better judgement, he snapped. He spoke of the truth, he spoke of his contempt, of his disappointments. But worst of all, he reminded Tony of his inadequecy to ever fill Barnes' shoes, he was reminded that he would never be half the man Bucky was.

  
_"I never would have married you if Bucky was still alive. You'll never be half the man he was."_

  
For once, Tony Stark fell silent. He had no rebuttal, as he left in a fury. Steve was personification of all of the disappointed people he had let down, and he wondered why he even cared, why it, no they, were worth giving a damn for. Steve was his father's words spoken in a much harsher tone, in a reality that was tenfold more painful, and for that he had no answer.   
He headed to the only place he knew where. 

* * *

  
Tony found solace in the comfort in anyone who would dull the pain for the night, it seemed as if a temporary fix was always the best presented option for him. He found solace in one of three places: a friend's home, (usually Bruce or Rhodey), a local bar where he would preferably be distracted by a platinum blonde who would allow him to forget for a night, and lastly, he found comfort in seeking out Loki.

It began in New York, all those years ago. They met in passing, played against each other as advesaries. At first, he found no desire for his touch. Tony was content. He found love, and he was hell bent on keeping it, but as time wore on, he found that maybe he was in love with the idea of love, but not Steve. He would be lying if he didn't eye Loki lustfully, but he drew his boundaries, and his resolve was steady at this time, with time, Steve's resentment weaked it.

  
Their first and chance meeting was less chaste. Tony was in a drunken stupour, an event hosted by his own company to mark the launch of new technology. Tony could care less. he was hell bent on fucking any woman or man that he believed would get him comuppance against Steve. Loki and him locked eyes, from the crowded hall. He was svelte, a dark suit accenting his lanky form, a green scarf adorning his neck. The green-eyed trickster sipped on his gin quietly, a small smile curling from the corner of his thin lips. His eyes seemed to beckon Tony, like a siren. 

 

_Tony gave way to temptation._

  
He held Loki close that night, their conversation under dimmed lights, as liquor warmed their bellies. Tony charmed him, but it was no lie, he was proud to illicit a slight laugh from Loki. He found it surprisingly easy to open up to the man. He learned their similarities, their pararells too much alike.

  
That night, Tony experienced true bliss. He experienced what "making love" was, versus fucking. As he held Loki close, slender legs drapped over his shoulder, as he pounded into him. Loki's utterance of his name at final climax had a new meaning to Tony. It didn't sound similar to Steve. Loki uttered the words willingly, eyes fluttering as he moaned, he found no disgust in Tony.

 

_Loki had given into his tempation._

  
He would not be punished, Thor loved uncondtionally. He was forgiven, and to some degree Thor knew Loki could never be owned by one man.   
Tony had no such luxury. 


End file.
